


Aubade

by Musyc



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Community: wizard_love, Draco Malfoy - character, F/M, Hermione Granger - character, Morning Sex, Musicians, Separations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-22
Updated: 2012-03-22
Packaged: 2017-11-02 08:37:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musyc/pseuds/Musyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aubade: A composition about dawn and lovers who will soon be parted. Draco helps Hermione to stop thinking about her upcoming tour and helps himself forget their separation as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aubade

He could hear his pocket watch on the table beside the bed. The second hand moved with a quiet, regular tick as it swept around the face. Draco closed his eyes, pretending that the quiet sounds were the beat of his heart, pretending that they weren't the passing - the loss - of precious seconds.

He slid his hand over the bed, seeking the warmth of Hermione's curving hip, but the space was empty and the sheets beneath his hand were cool. Rose petals caught on his fingers and he gathered up a handful of them. They fluttered out of his grasp and drifted across the bed, pink and white and red petals scattered over the wrinkled sheets. A few landed on his chest and stomach where they looked like a trail of bites on his skin. 

Draco brushed them away, brushed harder at one that seemed stuck, then realized that one truly was a bite, a small uneven circle of red. He dragged his fingers over it, feeling the tiny indentations of teeth. He didn't quite smile, but he felt a sense of pleasure warming his heart. The marks would be a reminder for a short while after Hermione had gone. He wished they could stay until she returned.

He sat up and ran his hands through his hair, pushing the ruffled strands back from his forehead and behind his ears. The tick of the watch was too loud and intrusive, and he put his hand over it, shutting the lid.

"Morning."

Hermione's soft voice came from the wide seat of the window at the far end of the room, and he turned to look at her. Smoke drifted around her, thin and pale in the warm light of dawn that spilled through the window. She leaned forward and tapped ashes into the bowl on a chair near her feet.

She'd dressed in the gown she wore the night before, and the white skirts pooled around her like water. The sunlight streamed through the translucent fabric draped over her outstretched leg, showing the narrow column of her ankle and the sweep of her calf. When they'd danced together at the gala, her skirts had seemed to surround him, twisting around his legs each time they spun in a turn. 

He didn't respond to her greeting. He climbed out of bed, his skin tingling in the cooler air. Hermione stared out the window, her arms wrapping around herself as she hunched over her thighs. Draco found his trousers, abandoned at the foot of the bed, and tugged them on. They hung low on his hips, and he scratched at the narrow band of hair beneath his navel as he glanced around for his belt. It was attached to the headboard, buckled around one of the posts, and he left it there for the memory of how hard she'd gripped the leather.

Hermione didn't move until he stood beside her, his hip against her shoulder. She leaned into him, tipped her head to rest on his stomach. Draco stroked her hair, smoothing out the tangled mess of her curls. She exhaled in a barely audible sigh. "I don't want to leave," she murmured before moving her hand from her shoulder, cigarette trembling loose between her fingers. Draco listened to the crackling burn of paper as she drew from it, then took it from her hand and took a deep drag for himself. He dropped the end into the bowl without putting it out. They exhaled simultaneously, and the smoke swirled around them as he rested his hand on her upraised knee.

Hermione kissed his stomach, just above the point of his hip, just beside the bite mark she'd left in his skin. "I don't want to leave," she said again, settling her hand over his on her knee.

Draco shook his head. "I don't want you to, either," he said, his voice low and rough from the night's groaning exertions. "Can't you find a replacement?"

"It's my tour, Draco. My compositions. I have to be there." Hermione extended both hands in front of her, into the beam of sunlight, and flexed her fingers, moving them one by one. Draco watched them lift and curl, watched her stretch them into their full span as if she were sitting at her piano. 

Draco grasped her arm and lifted it up to press a kiss to the inner surface of her wrist. "You still have some time," he said, his lips moving against her skin. With each word, he kissed down the length of her arm to the shallow dip of her elbow. "You don't have to leave until tonight."

He laced his fingers in hers and stepped back, silently coaxing her out of the window seat. She shook her head, but she unfolded in slow increments, legs slipping against each other under the translucent skirts as she swung them off the cushion. She kept moving, stepped forward and into his arms to lay her head on his chest. "I have to finish packing," she said, her fingers trailing up his ribs. "I have to contact the technician and verify she has everything she needs for the transport. I have to--"

"You have to stop thinking." Draco slid his fingers under her chin and lifted her head. He met her eyes as he brushed his thumb over her lower lip. He was talking to himself as much as he was talking to her. If they could both stop thinking, if they could both live there in the moment, they could forget their temporary separation for at least a little while. "Stop thinking, Hermione."

He took her wrists and drew her hands up to rest on his shoulders. Settling his hands lightly on her waist, he kissed the tip of her nose. "Relax," he murmured to her. "You're in the concert hall. You're at the piano. There's absolute silence around you. There is nothing except you and the keys and the music. You know how you feel in those few moments before you start to play."

He watched as the worry in her face eased. The corners of her eyes smoothed out and the tight line of her lips softened. She tipped her head back and let out a slow breath. Her fingers moved on his shoulders, first separately for individual notes, then in groups as she felt out chords. Draco kept his eyes on her face, admiring the calm that spread over her expression as she played her fingers on his skin. She never looked more relaxed than when she sat at her piano, her hands dancing over the keys.

She started to hum under her breath, soft notes that matched the touch of her fingers. Draco recognized the melody, one of the compositions she'd written a few years before. She rarely played it before an audience, despite its critical acclaim. She told him once, resting tangled together in crumpled sheets as she drew clefs and bars along the length of his spine, that she'd composed it for him. Something for him to keep in his heart when she had to be away. Playing it too often, for too many people, would make it less precious.

He hummed with her, finding the harmony beneath her melody. Hermione's eyelashes fluttered and the corners of her mouth curled up. Slowly, he took a step back, then another and another, turning in small increments as he moved. She followed, the long skirts of her dress swirling with each step, until they were dancing to the tune she played on his shoulders.

Draco guided her around the room, over scattered rose petals and through the strengthening beam of sunlight. Hermione stayed in step with him, her head swaying gently to the rhythm of their quiet hums. When they reached the end of the song, Hermione pressed close to him. She rose up on her toes and pressed her lips along the underside of his jaw.

She opened her eyes and smiled at him, her fingers twining in his hair. He opened his mouth to speak and she laid one finger over his lips, shaking her head. Without a word, she took his hands and drew him to the bed. Draco followed, one brow arched.

Hermione pushed him down, both hands on his shoulders. Draco went back across the bed and Hermione lifted her gown to climb atop him. Her thighs cradled his hips and the translucent fabric of her skirts puddled around him, covering him from chest to knees. He flicked at the hem of one layer and tipped his head in a silent question. Hermione settled into place and fluttered her fingers on his chest.

"A, B, C," she chanted in a low voice, playing the notes as she spoke. She went through three octaves by whole notes, then halves, her thumbs sliding over his nipples on each sharp. Draco tucked his hands under his head to stop himself from sliding them under her skirts and up her thighs. She had a look of calm concentration and he didn't want to break the spell.

Hermione rocked in place, humming softly, and Draco tightened his jaw to keep from groaning as her movement pressed their bodies together. His cock was beginning to stir, rubbing against the fastenings of his trousers. Hermione looked at him from beneath her lashes and gave a deep, knowing smile. She dragged her hands down his chest and under her skirts. She pressed her palm over his cock, laughing quietly when he lifted into her touch.

She raised up on her knees and nodded at him. Draco let out a sharp breath and scrabbled at his trousers. Fast as he could, he got them open and shoved down his thighs. The bed creaked under them, adding a counterpoint to Hermione's soft giggles. She moved enough to help him strip, then settled over his hips again. Fluffing her skirts around them, she wriggled against his cock. Draco held his breath as he realized that the gown was all Hermione was wearing. Beneath it, she was bare, her body warm and slick already. 

She purred, leaning down to kiss him. She sat up before he could wrap his arms around her and he stifled another groan. Hermione caressed the bodice of her gown, her fingers trailing over the low, strapless neckline. She reached behind herself and pulled down the zip, letting the top fall around her waist. Draco watched, his teeth digging into his bottom lip, as she stroked her breasts. She toyed with her nipples, plucking and strumming them until they stood up in solid, dark peaks.

Draco settled his hands on her waist and shifted under her, rubbing his cock against the folds of her body. "Impatient?" Hermione asked with a smile as she cupped her breasts. "I thought a bit of adagio, but if you're looking for allegro--"

"Yes," Draco said. He tightened his grip and rocked his hips. Hermione rose up slightly at the same time, her smile shifting to a wicked grin. The tip of his cock slid between her folds and pushed just within the entrance of her cunt. Hermione tensed her thighs to hold her position. Draco made a face and tugged at her hips.

She shook her head, laughing. "Allegro or adagio? You have to answer." Her voice held a sing-song tease. She lowered an inch, barely enough for him to feel the soft, wet heat of her cunt on his shaft. 

He tugged harder, knocking her off-balance. She fell over him, her hair spilling around their faces. Draco dug his heels into the bed and bucked his hips. Her body opened for him and his cock slid into her. They both moaned as they joined. Draco wrapped his arms around her back and hauled her into a deep, exploratory kiss. When he released her mouth, he gave a soft growl. 

In one motion, they rolled, Hermione's skirts flowing around them. The layers of material and the forgotten rose petals floated in the wake of air, and Draco pushed up onto his hands to stare down at her, his heart pounding. Her face was no longer calm, but he knew she wasn't thinking about her tour or her worries any longer. He pulled out of her and pushed in fast, reveling in the cry she made. All her thoughts were focused, right then, in the warming dawn and the heat of their bodies. Everything was right there, with them. They could both forget their worries and concentrate on _them_. He bent his elbows and kissed her fiercely. "Appassionato."


End file.
